Majikal AIM
by Kainaku Hotaru
Summary: Looking at Madame Giry’s threatening chain IM, Erik was struck with an idea. Hard. He rubbed his head trying to alleviate the pain.


_**A/N: **Let's just say there was an interesting conversation with a friend and then the plot bunnies started to have babies. : D_

Erik, Opera Ghost, the Phantom of the Opera looked around his not-so-humble abode. He had finished his opera. The Buffy rerun marathon was over. E:TVH and Frat had yet to be updated. Ayesha was curled up on his newly knitted scarf near the fireplace. The ballet rats were asleep, and his salary had been delivered on time. In short, Monsieur O.G. was bored.

"Spammit, there's nothing to do!" he angsted. Ayesha just opened an eye and looked at him before settling farther down into the scarf. Erik flung his hands into the air and gave a rather silent angsty shout. After dear Christine left with the foppish Vicomte for their weekend together, there was nothing to do. No voice lessons. No stalking. No watching her undres—well, just nothing to do.

Erik stalked over to his computer and sat down in a huff. Consequently, several dust bunnies hopped out of the way from the gust of air being shot at them (they took cover beneath the chair). Erik slouched over and signed onto his Windows XP account.

"Bloody Windows, always so bloody slow. Bloody computer. Bloody Bill Gates. Bloody Punjab… quite literally…"

Once signed in, his desktop was a giant picture of a blue eye. It was a piece of artwork he was rather fond of. He had zoomed in on Ayesha's eye and taken a picture of it with his digital camera right after it arrived (It had been chucked into the lake by the courier service, but luckily Erik got to it before the water seeped into the camera casing. He also triggered the trapdoor to the torture chamber when the couriers were leaving. One does not fling Erik's things into the lake without getting something in return).

He moved his mouse (the pointer was a rose, naturally) to the little blue "e" on the taskbar at the bottom of the screen.

Erik then continued his mutterings.

"Bloody slow internet. Bloody teenagers and their stupid '_aim_'. Bloody cats and… well… they're just… ARGH!" A fluorescently colored pop-up, well, popped up and flashed at Erik. "NO, I DON'T BLOODY WELL HAVE ANY BLOODY DEBT!"

Ayesha pulled her whole head up this time and glared at him. Erik turned and glared at her in return.

…

…

…

…

An hour later, Ayesha gave up and went back to sleep. Neither Erik nor the cat noticed that her scarf-bed was smoking.

Erik turned back to his monitor and was confronted with the flashing pop-up again. With a growl, he closed that window and checked his e-mail.

"Spam, still nothing," he glowered. A few dark mutterings about 'Elektra's, 'Boat's and 'Punjab's echoed half-heartedly throughout the cavern. In an almost reluctant manner, Erik double-clicked on the little yellow running man on his taskbar. After signing into AOL Instant Messenger, he looked at his buddy list.

_**Managers (2/7)**_

_EbolaMan_

_Andromeda7_

**_Ballet Rats (7/86)_**

_x0xBallet4lyfex0x_

_+ tehPointe +_

_)(StrawbeeJammes)(_

_PiNKSiLK_

_SauCYTaRT_

_rAtSrKoOl_

_ComteLurver_

_**Opera Staffers (1/4)**_

_:UR2KEWL:_

_**Sopranos (2/3)**_

_-ToaDSaReTeHSuXX0RS-_

_LeetleLotte 3_

_**Tenors (1/5)**_

_111PeeOnGee111_

_**Stagehands (5/23)**_

_FlyAway_

_Bucket+LassoMAGICK_

_-escarGAWT-_

_RaTCaTCHeR_

_mmmBOOZE_

**_Patrons (1/4)_**

_Feelme-ppe_

**_Fops (4/∞)_**

_VicomteDeShagmeh_

_Dincky4ever_

_theScarlettPerci_

_antlersRAWK_

_**Phantoms (1/1)**_

_4ng3l0f\/u51k666_

"Hmm…" he pondered to himself, while scratching his chin. "I could talk to Meg or Christine. I won't interrupt Andre and Firmin, no doubt they're up to something nasty. As are Sorelli and Philippe. Nasty buggers."

During his musings, a small window popped up in the middle of the screen.

_Would you like to accept an IM from **sporkishfiend**?_

_**Accept** **Decline** **Warn**_

"What the bloody hell is a spork?" Erik muttered as he clicked _**Accept**_.

**sporkishfiend**: hola

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666: **a spork?

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: what's a spork?

**sporkishfiend**: it's a spoon and a fork's child.

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: forks and spoons can't do…_that_

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: can they?

**sporkishfiend**: nope, but Taco Bell can!

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: …

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: this is Carlotta, isn't it?

**sporkishfiend**: pfft, no!

**sporkishfiend**: see, look I can sing! LALALALAAAAAA!

**sporkishfiend**: and, does Carlotta reek of chlorine?

**sporkishfiend**: NUH UH.

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: …

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: then just who the hell are you?

**sporkishfiend**: well, I'm married to a Saint.

**sporkishfiend**:D

**sporkishfiend**: I am…. SPORKY MOOPERS!

**sporkishfiend**: you're not impressed, are you?

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: …

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: I gotta go… take a shower or something…

**sporkishfiend**: Oooh! care for some company?

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: er…

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: no.

Quickly, Erik blocked the screen name and closed the window. He shuddered and leaned back onto his chair.

"Ayesha, you're never allowed on the computer… Ever." he told his cat. Ayesha didn't even bat an ear. She continued sleeping on the scarf near the fireplace (and it was still smoking).

Erik resolved to check his e-mail once more to check for updates.

Still nothing.

Oaths were muttered. Heads hitting the desk were heard. The usual for a bored Opera Ghost.

He tried refreshing the page, but nothing new came. Punjabs were fingered, wigs smoothed, knuckles popped, and eyes twitched.

**:UR2KEWL:**: OMG!

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: what?

**:UR2KEWL:**: my name is narie-lizette and i am dead. if u dont send this 2 8 ppl in the next .45 seconds IM GONNA KEEL U!1! thanx!

**:UR2KEWL:**: i only got it 2 4 peeps!

**:UR2KEWL:**: im gonna die!#!

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: …

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: do you honestly believe that shit, Madame?

**:UR2KEWL:**: …should i not

**:UR2KEWL:**?

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: (shakes head)

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: you really are gullible.

**:UR2KEWL:**: shaddup

**4ng3l0f\/u51k666**: gladly, Madame.

Looking at Madame Giry's threatening chain IM, Erik was struck with an idea. Hard. He rubbed his head trying to alleviate the pain.

He opened up Notepad and began to type up his own IM.

_I am the ghost in your cellar. Your life is at my mercy to-night, should you not do as I order. First: you must mail 20,000 francs to the Opera Garnier and have it addressed to The Persian. He'll know what to do. Second: you must all send hate IMs to -ToaDSaReTeHSuXX0RS-. Thirdly: all of you shall stone any fop you might see (if the name starts with "R," "P," "F," "A," or "H" and use more hair/skin-care products than their lady friend, they are a fop). Fourthly and finally: you must send this message to **everyone** on your buddy list (even the offline ones) within the next 66.6 seconds. And if you don't do as I have instructed… A disaster beyond imagination shall occur. And said disaster shall include Punjabs. Many of them. (The only person on this earth who does not have to comply is my Angel. Christine Daaé. I love you.) …PUNJAB!_

Erik leaned back in his chair again and looked at his masterpiece. This was almost as excellent as his opera. Excepting the fact that it contained no lyrical smut, but chain IMs need no lyrical smut. He chuckled darkly to himself and opened his buddy list up.

Selecting the entirety of the message, he copied it. He then proceeded to open up everyone online screen name's window and pasted it into all of them. With one final stroke of the keyboard, he entered the messages to them.

Whilst laughing demoniacally, he signed off of AIM. The little yellow man lost his blue circle and ran off the screen.

"Oh, Ayesha," he cried with evil glee. "I feel so…so terribly clever!"

Ayesha didn't acknowledge him.


End file.
